


Unavailable

by okbutjusthisonce



Series: RFU [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Omega, Gender Issues, It's just a dream don't worry okay, M/M, Mpreg, Omega John, Omega John Watson, Omega Verse, Pregnant John, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:58:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okbutjusthisonce/pseuds/okbutjusthisonce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is a perfect omega for an a-typical alpha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unavailable

**Author's Note:**

> I need to write up my o-verse cannon someday...  
> feedback welcome/craved/appreciated...

Sally Donovan has never felt comfortable around him. That’s only become more true since The Freak began procreating – and procreating like mad at that. The absurd number of children Sherlock has helped bring into the world in a dreadfully short amount of time has her instantly squirming if she stops to think about it.  She doesn’t think about it, not if she can help it.

Today he’s here though, (they’ve hit an impossible roadblock in the case and its an emergency) and even if she does her best to not look his way, to stay clear of Lestrade’s office where he works, (a pudgy baby strapped to his chest, a couple more brats milling about his legs) even if she closes the door to her office, she can still smell him. His scent permeates the place, clean but overly potent - musky and utterly alpha; broadcasting his biological success, as blatant as a marching band, as loud as a claxon.

It’s not a scent she is expected to deal with well, being an alpha herself. The scent of an alpha in his state would naturally inspire other alphas to aggressive, territorial, irrational behaviors (that’s all true, but the least of her problems). The workplace assumes her to be agitated by it, as any other alpha in the department would be.  In fact, all two of them have left for the day; O’Connor and Trumble – they’d invited her to the pub, no doubt counting on her taking up her usual mantle of Anti-Sherlock Evangelist for their cathartic, pissed amusement. Sally declined politely, sighting the current case’s time sensitivity, her dedication to it, and professional tenacity as her reasons.

“Try not to get into it with him, Sal,” O’Connor had said as they headed out the door, “It’s simply unkind to kick someone’s arse in front of their own. Embarassin’ like.” Macho posturing aside, Sally recognizes her fellow alpha’s underlying intent. She is grateful for the camaraderie, even if it’s purely based on gender and hormonal agitation.

She can hear his low voice across the office now, he is excitedly talking (down, she assumes from the condescending tone) to Greg as they go over details together. His voice is deeper than usual, bassier, punctuated with odd growls and rumbling hums. As if Lestrade is consulting with a dragon.  The sound makes the fine hairs on her body stand on end. 

Sally does her best to read the document in front of her, to ignore the thing at the other side of the office that’s driving her mad. The closest she gets is an image of John Watson, and the last time she saw him some months ago, already big again, swelling up with a whole bloody litter this time. It was as though they'd come in solely to show off, to scandalize everyone with their fecundity. She feels slightly queasy.

An odd omega, she can see John's appeal – John is loyal and caring and even on the small side (the most basic rules of attraction for omegas), but just as strong and even ruthless when the moment calls for it. He conforms to the archetype of omega and contradicts it. He even seems like an alpha himself sometimes. It can be uncomfortable to be around. Sally would never speak out against same gender unions, but ... well, she'd never be in one.

John is a perfect omega for an a-typical alpha.

Sally does not want children – she thought it was something she and The Freak had in common – but if she did, she would probably want someone like John to have them with. The former half of this thought inspires a deep melancholy in her that makes her rise from her desk nervously and pace. 

Male omegas with male alphas are somewhat controversial in this civilized day and age, especially where children are concerned. They can’t nurse, so there’s usually a female involved – the modern, polite method being a surrogate but sometimes there is a second omega in the relationship, either chosen and dominated by the first, or outright by the alpha.

Male omegas who go for male alphas are reputedly the most promiscuous people, being in the middle like so. Oddly, John defies this cliché too. He and Sherlock are solidly monogamous as far as she can tell. Scents don’t lie, she thinks, then actually shudders.

She’s been accused of being sexually conservative before, a prude. There’s truth to it, she supposes, but then why should the whole department seem to get hot and bothered by those two? Perhaps that's only her imagination.

She needs a cigarette. Downstairs she takes long draws on her American Spirit, the thick flavor temporarily blocking Sherlock from her nose and mouth.

Just as her heartbeat is returning to a manageable pace, the door opens.

“What…” she says aloud, for he is there, sans offspring, his scent overpowering and signaling something else entirely. His lips pull into its impossible smile and he pushes himself onto her. They are mouth to mouth suddenly, remnants of smoke escaping between them. 

“You can… you can do it for us, can’t you.” He says in that beautiful monster voice, and they are already tangled together somehow, she’s pressed against the wall, his fingers finding their way inside her knickers. She’s freed his cock by then. It was impossible to miss earlier when he’d arrived; the massive shape beneath his trousers, snaking down his thigh, badly concealed under expensive black fabric. It swells in her hands, grows even bigger than she would’ve thought -than she’d imagined, - if she is to be honest with herself (she isn’t often in this area).

Her own sex has long been stirring from deep inside her body, has been agitated all morning. She's built to impale as much as he, but he pushes himself inside her first, before she even gets close.  His girth leaves her gasping, aching; she is not used to receiving. She claws at, clings to him as he fills her.

He knows her non-thoughts as he kisses her, of course he does.

“You’re still female, you can still carry… lactate… you can still help us…” She’s fully drinking in his scent now, saturated and utterly lost in it . Her leg is locked around his lower back, he fucks her mercilessly and comes with an animalistic lowing sound. She feels hot semen fill her, his knot plug and stretch her further, his offspring take root inside, begin to change her body in a way she has no control over. She is his omega, his mouth is already sliding over her neck ready to claim, and she moans in deep ecstasy. His teeth sink into her flesh. Fuck John Watson, she thinks, then, maybe I will… later… because her body is still an alpha’s, John is still divinely attractive. It’s just that the urge to fight has turned into, has always been an impulse for brutal, adversarial sex with -and more importantly submission to- the one that’s pinning her down this very minute. Her mouth finds a mirroring spot on his shoulder. When their lips come back together each tastes the mix of blood, and Sherlock comes again, and again. She will be just like John soon.

“Thanks.” Says Greg as he leans back from her lighter. The door closes with a soft click, and they stand looking at each other for a beat, far more time than the taboo fantasy needed to unfurl itself in her brain. Sally nods once, her cool exterior betraying nothing.

“You two finished up then?” She asks. Greg nods, inhales deeply.

“He’s managed to shed some light on things. There’s hope we’ll find the boy yet. But I’ll need to you to help run down some leads…”

“That’s why I stuck around today.” Sally lights a second, Greg throws her a look of appreciation, oblivious to the slightest of tremors in her left hand. He would’ve seen it though, she thinks. The lie. She buries all of it away, in its usual deep and bitter place. Some thoughts are best not even having in the end.

“You’ve got some bloody self control, Donovan.” Lestrade commends with his exhale, “Christ, even I was bothered today. That scent! Thought he might try to subdue me a few times as well…” It’s meant as a joke, so Sally laughs.

“Must be good to be a beta.” She only half teases, “No biological mandates to overcome…”

“You do alright,” he grins, “not to mention the generous flow of tasty omegas you alpha types seem to get.”

“Which reminds me, I’ve a date to cancel if it’s looking like another long night.”

 “Ian’s a saint. Dinner's on the department - if and when you ever manage to see each other again, that is.”

“He’s an omega. He’s good at waiting for his alpha, but yeah, dunno how I lucked out with that boy.”

Greg stubs his cigarette out and holds the door opens for her to go ahead of him.

“Sorry, Sal,” he says, “I’d normally do all the heavy lifting on this one – it’d be easy with Sherlock  but -“ 

“I know,” she answers without looking back, “He’s unavailable.”

 

****  
  



End file.
